


Like my missing puzzle piece

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: 3+1 kinda fic, Bellamy holding Clarke for 5k words straight, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Kinda, Slow Burn, shameless cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: Three times Bellamy and Clarke hold each other platonically, and one time it isn’t platonic at all.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	Like my missing puzzle piece

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! How are you all doing? 😊
> 
> I’m still working on my other two long fics, but in the meantime here’s some much needed Bellarke fluff. 
> 
> I also made a moodboard for this story, so if you want to take a look head over to my Twitter account @PLISAwrites 👀
> 
> Happy reading! 💙

I.

It was stupid of him to think Clarke was unbreakable. 

In his defence, she stood always tall and confident — perhaps more than anyone else, despite her easy and comfortable life. She was the only one who hadn’t committed a real crime after all, if he didn’t count Octavia. And yet given her privileged position and her sometimes uptight attitude, she seemed to be the most prepared out of the hundred. Ready to face anything, always. 

That’s why, when her knees gave out that night, when a loud cry escaped her throat, tearing her insides apart, when her walls came crashing down, so did his in a way. 

At first he thought it was a shooting star, but it soon became clear that he couldn’t be more wrong. The Exodus ship soon became nothing but a ball of fire on the horizon, a loud explosion in the silence of the night. Doctor Abby Griffin was supposedly travelling in the ship, and Clarke’s life ended the second it crashed down. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” before his brain could register what was going on, Clarke’s numb body stumbled backwards, powerless and defeated. Bellamy hurried behind her, catching her just in time before she hit the ground. 

Her small form started shaking, and she couldn’t stop sobbing, crying uncontrollably. She had never been vulnerable like this. She had never been vulnerable at all. 

“Shh. Come here, Clarke,” he didn’t know what to say, how to act. Was he supposed to tell her everything was going to be alright? Because they both knew it wasn’t. Bellamy knew better than anyone what it felt like to lose a mother, and yet the words wouldn’t come out. 

It didn’t help that they weren’t exactly the best of friends. They had slowly learned to tolerate each other, but nothing further from reality. And now his arms were wrapped around her shaking shoulders, in an attempt to calm her down, and he thanked they were alone or else the gossip would’ve started right away.

Bellamy, ruthless Bellamy, comforting the girl he had almost let fall into a pit once? What a sight it would’ve been. 

“Clarke,” his voice sounded softer than she thought it was possible, “Clarke. Look at me.”

She shook her head, like a little kid would, and dried her tears with the back of her hands. 

“Clarke,” he repeated, more firmly this time. 

“What?”, the agitation in her voice caught him off guard, but he came back to his senses quickly. 

She was looking at him now, his hands still on both sides of her arms, holding her steadily. He was scared she would fall down if he released her. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” he told her sincerely, but the skeptic look on her face made him lose confidence. He ignored it, “I know what it’s like to lose a mother. I…,” he swallowed, “I’m here if you need me.”

Clarke’s heart jumped. Bellamy was here for her. He wanted to be here for her. What did it mean? Did it mean he finally saw her as a...friend? She almost didn’t believe him. 

He had seen her as an equal since the start, a co-leader and a partner, but certainly not as a friend. They weren’t even on speaking terms that same morning, for whatever reason she had now forgotten. 

He squeezed her arms, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she quickly said, “I just… Thank you, Bellamy.” 

He nodded, his throat dry and unable to let out the words. His hands were still on her, but neither of them seemed to mind. The human contact felt nice, warm. A reminder that there was something else other than hostility on that planet. A reminder that they had each other. 

Perhaps Bellamy still didn’t like her very much, and perhaps Clarke still thought he was a careless man who didn’t deserve to be a leader. But in moments like that, the mind forgets, and it only registers the calmness they feel around each other. 

“Bellamy,” her voice was so small, a whisper, he thought he had imagined it at first.

“Yes?”

“Can you hold me?” 

The request was very simple and innocent, so why did his heart skip a beat? He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She shifted until her face was hidden in the warmth of his jacket, just below his neck. And he held her tighter. 

His hug was stronger than anything Clarke had ever known. It wasn’t overwhelming, but rather safe. In that moment of feeling him so close she was awake somehow, more alive than she had been in so very long. She would never admit it, but there were times she yearned to be a butterfly, safe and protected within the walls of the cocoon, away from this cruel world. That's what she felt now. Bellamy’s arms were her cocoon.

Bellamy didn't want to leave. It felt as if when she was in his arms all his pain went away somehow — mental and physical, all the tension and fear. If she could only stay in his arms forever, he thought, safe from the world's harmful reality. One could only hope. 

Clarke shifted, and he feared she was going to pull away. But she didn’t, and his heart had never felt more relieved. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think that she fit so well between his arms. No matter how much she moved, she always fit like a puzzle piece. It probably didn’t mean anything, but it felt nice. Way more than nice. 

He didn’t know how long they had been holding each other when they pulled away. All he knew was that his whole being felt empty, and he had never felt that way. 

* * *

II. 

“Clarke, can you fix my bandage?” 

She looked up from her notes, a frowned expression on her tired face, “I did them yesterday.”

Jasper pressed his lips together on a thin line, “Ripped them off. Kinda.”

“Kinda,” she repeated, trying not to show how she was really feeling inside. The camp didn’t need her to break down. That was the last thing they needed, in fact. 

“Yeah, um,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Monty and I were climbing this tree and, um, it was a dare and—”

“Clarke!,” a new, rushed voice entered medbay. She quickly recognised it as Miller’s, “Monroe hurt her feet in today’s hunting trip. She’s outside. Could you take a look, please?”

“Of course. Is she in a lot of pain?”

“Clarke!,” another new voice, “I think Fox is having an allergic reaction to some plant we brought yesterday.”

“Alright, let me just—”

“Clarke, could we talk for a second?”, when she looked up and saw Finn Collins, she exploded. This had to be the last straw. 

“Enough!”, she looked around the crowded room, her voice startling some of the patients, but she didn’t care anymore. Did the whole camp really need her that badly?, “Everybody just… give a second, please.”

A quick figure passed by behind her, and before she knew it Octavia was already speaking to Jasper. 

“You’ve seen Clarke do it a million times,” she handed him a new bandage, “Do it yourself, buddy. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Jasper didn’t have time to react, because Octavia was already on the next patient. 

“Get out of here, Collins. We are busy,” she told him as she passed by, her tone so similar to Bellamy’s it almost scared her. When he looked at her for confirmation, Clarke simply shrugged. 

“Okay,” Octavia was now next to her, quick like a bolt. She smirked, “Which one do you prefer, allergic reaction or hurt feet?”

Clarke blinked, “Um, allergic reaction.”

“On it.” 

It took her a second to react. Octavia was already gone with Miller, just as fast as she had come, and she knew she had to rush to find Fox, but she needed to breathe. Just for a moment. 

She was usually not one to get overwhelmed by a couple of people asking her to do stuff. That was her duty after all, as a leader and as a medic. But in days like this one, it all became too much. 

The younger Blake had been a medic in training only for a couple of weeks, but she was already flawless at it. She knew a lot more about Grounder medicine than she did too, so she was an excellent addition. Just like her brother, she could be a leader if she wanted to. And that specific morning, Clarke wished she could just take her place for a few hours. Would it really be that bad if she disappeared for a while? 

It turned out that Fox didn’t have an allergic reaction — she had just eaten a poisonous plant by accident, which ultimately was a good thing. She didn’t know how to deal with allergic reactions yet, and honestly she was too exhausted to investigate it. 

The night grew cold, and Clarke just wanted to be away and alone. Everyone went back to their tents as soon as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t go back between another four walls yet, the claustrophobic feelings getting too overwhelming. So, although it was freezing cold outside, she layered up as best as she could and sat in front of the sparkling fire. 

A moment of peace. She just wanted a moment of peace, something she lacked since the past couple of days. Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about the Exodus ship, about the Ark, about Finn, about anything. She really tried, but then she heard it. Footsteps. Behind her. 

Quickly, she grabbed the small knife Bellamy had advised her to hide on her boot, and hoped for the best. 

“It’s just me,” his deep voice echoed through the night, and her guard came down again, “Sorry if I startled you.”

“It’s okay,” she said, heart still beating fast, and watched by the corner of her eye as Bellamy sat down next to her. 

Silence washed over them, but it wasn’t awkward, not really. Ever since the night of the ship crash, something had changed between them. A realisation that Bellamy cared for her, even if only momentarily, and it made her feel so much better. Not only was she alone on Earth now — she was also alone in the world. In the universe. With both of her parents gone, she had no one to watch over her. No one who cared if she was alive or dead. 

But perhaps Bellamy did. 

“O told me about today,” he spoke then, carefully and slowly. His voice wrapped her in an imaginary embrace, and it made the moment feel more intimate than it probably was, “Rough day, I’m assuming.”

She sighed, “Very,” the fire in front of them was slowly becoming smaller and smaller, and she wrapped her arms around herself, “You?”

He took a second to answer, “Kinda rough, too. We had to rush Monroe back from the hunting trip. Murphy was a handful, as always.”

Clarke chuckled lowly, “Nothing new.”

“Not really,” the small smile on his lips made her blush slightly, but the fire hid it well. Since when did they engage in small talk? She couldn’t remember their last interaction that didn’t involve bickering. It was nice to talk to him like this, like two normal young adults who shared a moment of peace and quiet. 

After a few minutes, he spoke again, “It’s getting cold,” he looked over at the fire, “You’ll freeze to death if you stay here.”

She shrugged, “Wouldn’t mind it.”

He knew she was joking, or at least he hoped she was. Nonetheless, he felt the need to ask her, “Why would you rather stay out here?”

She almost mistook his tone for concern, but she knew better. The hug they had shared a few weeks ago had just been that, a brief moment of comfort to make her feel better. Now she was fine, or partly fine, and he wasn’t going to worry about her. He probably just didn’t want to deal with another sick delinquent. 

“I just want to be alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head, eyes locking with his as he was about to get up, “You can stay.”

He frowned, “Can I?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged again, “You’re a quiet guy.”

Bellamy chuckled, “Alright,” a pause. Then, “But you’re totally going to freeze to death. Here.”

She felt a heavy pressure on her shoulders, and it took her a second to realise he had put his jacket over her. 

“Absolutely not,” she shifted until it was off her shoulders, “You will freeze to death.”

“I won’t,” he insisted, and put his jacket back over her small form, only for her to take it off again, “Stubborn.”

Bellamy knew he couldn’t win a battle against Clarke, and honestly he was too tired to even try. So, he put his jacket back on, and hesitated before his next move. Slowly, he reached out across her shoulders, his face tight, every thought focused on masking his doubts. 

When she didn’t snap at him or pull away, he pressed his body to her side. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around her cold body, now definitely warmer. 

The hug was a simple enough gesture — affection, perhaps the fragile beginnings of a true friendship. The arms that held her were soft, yet strong. The feel of her body so close to his soothed him more than he had expected. 

In his embrace the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no cold nights. Clarke’s mind was at peace. How could it be that she hadn't seen Bellamy’s touch for what it was before? Pure. Unselfish. Undemanding. Caring. 

He couldn’t help but remember their hug back when the Exodus ship crashed down from the sky. How well she fitted inside his arms, against his body. He was feeling it now, too, and it was scary. 

Bellamy wasn’t an affectionate man, not with someone who wasn’t Octavia. And now, this. Now, somebody else fitted into his body like a puzzle piece, gave him calmness and warmth, eased his heart and mind. What was he supposed to do? 

“Thanks for staying out here with me,” he heard her whisper. He squeezed her shoulder softly, but he thought she got it completely backwards. 

He was thankful she had allowed him to stay. 

* * *

III.

“Clarke.”

“Umm.”

“My bed broke.”

She looked up at him carefully, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe his words. And perhaps she didn’t. Had she heard right? 

“Your bed broke,” it was a statement rather than a question. 

Bellamy nodded, “In half.”

She couldn’t tell by his face nor by his tone if he was joking, so she decided to play along. Whatever. She could use the distraction — classifying plants all morning was driving her insane. 

“How?”, she arched an eyebrow at him. 

He waved a nonchalant hand in front of his eyes, “Doesn't matter. Let’s not get into details,” she could see a hint of a smile in his lips, “The point is that I need a new one. I could have it built by tomorrow if I go get some wood today.”

“So why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need a place to sleep.”

Clarke tried to ignore the way her heart had just jumped, “Again, why are you telling me this?”

“I was hoping I could sleep in your tent tonight.”

She could feel the heat growing in her cheeks. By then they must have been beyond an attractive rosiness, she guessed. She felt as if all the thoughts she had ever had about him were writ large across her face and there was nowhere to hide. Not that she had had many, but. A few, at most. 

“S-Sure,” she didn’t ask why he didn’t want to go with one of the many girls he had slept with, because she didn’t want to know the answer. 

“Great, um, see you later then.”

And that’s how, for the following twelve hours, she couldn’t stop thinking about Bellamy Blake. Fantastic. 

She was being stupid, she knew that. Delusional, even. Yes, their relationship had evolved from enemies to co-leaders to somewhat friends over the course of the last few weeks, but that wasn’t what she was worried about. 

Intimacy had never scared her, not really. But it wasn’t until recently that she realised that perhaps she had never experienced true intimacy, and that was why she had never ran away from it. 

She was pretty sure the small moments of complicity she shared with Bellamy weren’t innocent. She didn’t go around hugging people and giving them comfort, and neither did he. So why was she any different?

Why did he want to spend the night with her, out of everyone else at camp?

She thought Octavia would be with Lincoln, so his sister wasn’t an option anyway. Monty and Jasper probably talked too much and wouldn’t let him sleep, Miller shared a tent with three others, and so did pretty much everyone else. Bellamy and her were the only ones who lived alone. And while in her mind his choice kind of made sense, at the same time it didn’t. 

Night washed over camp before she knew it. She lingered for longer than necessary at medbay, and for a second she was ashamed of her own behaviour. She wasn’t a child, and it was just Bellamy. Nothing to worry about. 

The walk to her tent was slow, her feet also lingering on the way there. The dim light of a candle told her that he was already inside, and she swallowed. Just one night. Nothing was going to happen. 

Get it together, Griffin. 

“Hey,” he was first to speak when she entered the tent, closing the flap softly behind her. 

“Hi,” Clarke watched carefully as he washed his face in a small wooden bowl, the water turning black from the dirt of his skin. 

“How was your day?”

She eyed him carefully as he put the bowl aside, water dripping from his nose and chin in such a hypnotising way. Absentmindedly, she bit down on her lower lip. 

“Boring,” she cleared her throat, “Yours?”

“I got the wood,” he smirked, “You’ll get rid of me tomorrow.”

She let out a shy chuckle, “Thank god, huh?”

“I’m good company,” he smiled, kicking off his boots, “A quiet guy, according to some.”

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully at him, and proceeded to take off her boots as well, “It’s a good quality to have, you know? Especially when everyone else is out of their minds half of the time.”

He laughed, and she thought it was the very first time she had heard a genuine laugh from him, “Let the kids be kids,” he smirked, and looked over discreetly at the bed. 

She didn’t really think it through, and before she knew it the words had rolled off her tongue, “How did you break it?” 

“It wasn’t very strong to start with,” she noticed that he was avoiding the conversation, so she didn’t push it. She could only imagine how it had happened, and she’d rather not hear it. 

“Try not to break mine,” she joked.

“I would never.”

They climbed into bed in a comfortable silence, Clarke first and then Bellamy, insisting that he had to sleep closer to the door just in case. She told him that it was ridiculous, that she slept all by herself every night, but deep inside she felt nothing but a strange, comforting kind of warmth. 

Someone cared about her. Bellamy cared about her. He cared enough to protect her from any potential danger, although realistically there weren’t any. 

She didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Sleeping with Bellamy wasn’t weird. Not at all. He kept a respectful distance between them, back to back, even though his body heat kept her even warmer. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t uncomfortable, and the dangerous realisation that she could get used to it soon came flooding in. 

She wasn’t going to get used to anything. This was a one-time thing. Once he built himself another bed, it wasn’t going to happen again. And she was fine with it. She shouldn’t be sleeping with her co-leader anyways, even if it was literally, and nothing else happened. 

What would people say if they saw them sharing a bed? If they caught Bellamy leaving her tent in the morning? Gossip would spread like wildfire, and that was the very last thing they needed. They wanted to be taken seriously for the sake of the whole camp, but that wasn’t going to happen if people thought they were hooking up. 

An hour must have passed, perhaps two, and Clarke was nowhere near sleepy. How could she? Having Bellamy next to her was distracting enough, and the thought of someone rushing inside her tent and seeing them there was keeping her up. 

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes again, and tried to relax for real. None of that was going to happen. No gossip was going to spread across camp. Nothing—

A whimper. 

Was it a whimper? Was someone crying outside? 

She opened her eyes in time to feel Bellamy shifting behind her, his cold feet hitting her leg. And then, another sound. More throaty this time, similar to a groan. It took her a second to realise that Bellamy was the one making those sounds. 

“Bellamy,” she sat on the bed, watching with worried eyes as he shifted again. Slowly, she placed a hand on his arm and shook him slightly, “Bell. You’re having a nightmare.”

His eyes snapped open, forehead covered in a cold sweat, shaking, heart pounding, looking around the tent suspicious and paranoid that the horrors of his dream may have followed them there. Only when he finally saw her did he breathe again. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Clarke said softly, unsure of what to do. For some reason, she had thought he was too strong, too fearless for bad dreams. She should’ve known better. 

He nodded quickly, “It’s okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. This is nothing new.”

Nothing new? She arched a confused eyebrow, “How long has this been happening?”

Bellamy shrugged, “A week, maybe.”

She resisted the urge to swipe the sweat off his forehead, to hold him and comfort him like he had done for her, “What are they about?”

“Octavia,” he swallowed, “All of them.”

And then, something in her mind clicked, and her heart dropped. 

“Your bed didn’t break,” it wasn’t a question. 

Bellamy looked at her, perplexed, unable to answer. Perhaps he didn’t need to. 

“I…,” he started, but it was too late. Clarke had already read him like an open book, “I just couldn’t bear to sleep alone any more.”

“Bellamy…”

“No, it’s fine,” he gave her a small smile that couldn’t look more fake, “It’s fine,” he repeated. 

“It’s not fine,” she shook her head, “Come here.”

In that moment, her arms squeezed him tight and Bellamy breathed more slowly, his body melting into hers as every muscle lost its tension to the cold air. This was life, real life. He felt alive again. Bellamy sunk into the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture. 

Hugging Clarke could never last long enough for him. No matter when the end came, it would be too soon. It felt too good, too right. He breathed into her neck, relaxing once again, and thankful for this brief moment of intimacy. 

“You can sleep with me every night if you want to,” she whispered into his hair, “I want you to be alright.”

“I’m alright, really,” he hurried to say, “But thank you, Clarke. Thank you.”

* * *

III. + I. 

Bellamy had never been breathless before. Not like this. 

It was never out of fear, out of raw anxiety that climbed up his chest, clinged to his heart and didn’t let go. When his eyes travelled to her almost lifeless body, still and cold against the metal bed of the Dropship medbay, his whole world fell apart. 

“She’s going to be okay,” had been Octavia’s mantra for the past ten hours, but there were no real signs of Clarke being okay. He was going insane. 

Earlier that morning, Clarke started throwing up. At first she thought it was a common bug, but when she passed out cold moments later, it was clear as day that something else was going on. Now, after hours of suddenly waking up in a cold sweat and drifting back to sleep just as quickly while showing no signs of better health, Bellamy was about to punch something. Or somebody. 

Lincoln had ruled out some of the most deadly illnesses, which ultimately was a good thing, but Bellamy wasn’t feeling much more relieved. Their best guess was that she had eaten something she shouldn’t have, and the Grounder man assured them her body would recover itself by the next day. 

But he couldn’t wait that long. 

He sat down on the makeshift chair next to her bed, and held her freezing hand between his warm one, checking for a pulse yet again. It was faint, but it was there. 

This time, though, he held her. 

“She’s not going to die,” Octavia looked carefully over at her brother, then at Clarke’s sleeping form, “You’ll see how she gets better tomorrow.”

“And what if she doesn’t, O?”, he snapped, voice harsh and jaw clenched, “What would I do then?” 

The younger Blake let out a small sigh, and walked towards him. She had never seen him like this because of somebody else that wasn’t herself, so desperate and lost and ready to risk it all to save Clarke’s life. She didn’t know what to make of it. 

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and squeezed him there, “Clarke is strong. She’s going to recover from this. Lincoln said it’s not severe anyways.”

“What if he’s wrong?”, he frowned. 

“He never is.” 

Bellamy ran his free hand through his already messy hair, and squeezed Clarke’s with the other. He needed her to know he was there, even if she couldn’t feel him. 

Octavia closed the medbay door two hours later, made sure to keep everyone away, and promised Bellamy that Clarke would be back on her feet again by morning. But he couldn’t leave her alone. It wasn’t an option anyways. When the night had wrapped them in, and there was nothing but a dim light in one corner of the room, he climbed into bed with her. She would freeze without his body heat, and that was the last thing she needed. 

Or at least that was what he told himself as he wrapped his strong arms around her now weak form. 

He didn’t sleep that night. How could he? What if something happened to her? What if she needed his help? So he stayed awake for hours, who knew for how many, holding her close and watching how her chest rose up and down with her faint breathing. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair, probably more to himself than to Clarke, and hugged her tightly, “I’ll take care of you, Princess.”

Even though she couldn’t hear him, he hoped she knew that. He hoped she knew how much she was cared for, how important she was for him, how vital. If something happened to Octavia or her, his life would be over.

Bellamy didn’t know when his feelings changed, when his heart started to feel heavier when Clarke was in danger. But he wasn’t going to question it, because he knew she felt the same. If anything, if they could never be something more, they were best friends. Clarke was his everything. Clarke was—

“Umm,” the girl shifted inside his embrace, suddenly making him self-conscious. What if she didn’t want to be hugged without consent? God, was he a horrible person?, “Bellamy?” 

“It’s me,” he hurried to say, and tried but failed to give her some space. Her hand was wrapped around his t-shirt, “I’m here.”

“W-Where am I?”, voice weak, he could easily tell she was still not fully okay. 

“Medbay, Princess,” he swallowed, “How are you feeling?”

“Weak,” she groaned, and tried to sit down on the bed. He helped her up, “Where is everyone?”

“Sleeping,” he smiled softly, “Octavia was here all day, but it’s pretty late now.”

Clarke nodded slowly, eyes lost somewhere in the darkness, “But you stayed.”

He swallowed again, “Of course I was going to stay, Clarke.”

Her head was pounding with exhaustion and dizziness, and yet she realised right then that in his words she was safe, because they weren’t just words. Bellamy was there everyday, all the time, just like he always said he would. He was there when they had something to celebrate, and when her whole existence came crashing down in the form of a ship. Even knowing her faults, of which she was sure there were many, Bellamy was always there to listen, to defend, to care for her. To love, maybe. 

He understood her anxieties, her triggers and the ghosts that haunt her. And she understood his. Perhaps that was why they made such a good team — could two broken people heal each other? It felt like they could. 

“Bell,” voice low, she turned her head around to look at him. He looked defeated just like she did, and it was easy to tell he hadn’t closed his eyes all night, not even for a second. 

“Yes, Princess,” careful fingers placed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and she shivered at his touch. 

“Can you hold me?”

There was nothing else in the universe he would rather do, but he didn’t tell her. He wasn’t ready to say it, and perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear it either, but when he wrapped his strong arms around her again, he thought she should’ve known. Words could never speak loud enough when it came to them, and they didn’t mind it. 

Once again, Clarke fit into his embrace as if she had been made to, and this time he truly didn’t want to let go. It didn’t register for a few minutes what he was doing until she shifted closer to him, and then he realised that his lips were pressed to the crown of her head. 

People talked about "mixed feelings" like they’re an exception, but for Bellamy it was the norm. He was scared to try and scared not to. Could he live this life always caught between feelings so antagonistic to one another? Octavia used to say love is the way out, like it's some kind of open door into unlimited sunshine. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go there. What if there wasn’t sunshine on the other side, but aggressive, raw storms? 

But what is a life without risks?

“Clarke,” he started, unsure. She only hummed in response, “If I do something,” he continued, but stopped to clear his throat, “Something very stupid. Would you ever forgive me?”

Clarke frowned, “Depends. If you run away, I won’t.”

“I’m not going to do that,” he assured her, his stomach dropping at the fact that she even considered that a possibility, “I’d never leave you.”

“I know.”

Once, what now felt like an eternity ago, he had made a promise never to make choices that matter when he was feeling afraid. And so if now he was terrified, why did it feel so damn right? 

“The stupid thing,” he spoke again, his heart racing so fast he feared she might feel it, “Would you forgive me?”

“You’re scaring me a little,” she admitted, and raised her chin to look at him. Eyes locked in something she recognised as trust, she continued, “But I would forgive you, Bell.”

“Good.”

In a second, the room fell away around her. The world stopped, and so did time, and all she felt was a soft pressure on her lips, and a flutter of her heart. Bellamy was kissing her. Bellamy was kissing her, and it felt like the sun, the moon, and the stars all at once. Unexpected but desired, unknown yet familiar. 

It wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t needy, and yet that was exactly how it left her feeling. She needed his lips like she needed the air she breathed, and when he finally pulled away she almost complained. 

Gazing into each other’s eyes, there was nothing they could say that would remotely make any sense. His eyes on hers were more than enough to express what their words could never. 

“You don’t hate me,” he whispered, somehow unable to believe she had wanted this all along, too. 

Clarke shook her head, a small smile on her beautiful, now familiar lips, “But I can kiss you like I do.”

Bellamy smirked, and pulled her closer, “Please, do.”


End file.
